


'Purdy'

by Lynn_StarDragon



Series: Purdy [1]
Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen, Humor, This is why Pitch can't have nice things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 11:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynn_StarDragon/pseuds/Lynn_StarDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The most horrible nightmare that Pitch will ever have the misfortune of having.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Purdy'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lindzzz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindzzz/gifts).



> An early Pitchmas present for Lindzzz. I hope Pitch's suffering helps you to feel better!
> 
> As always, this wouldn't even be possible without my Beta reader Vihtalaini. I am so so sorry.

 

On any given night, save Christmas Eve, Santoff Claussen was just as active as it was during the day. Tonight was not Christmas Eve, nor was it any of the days approaching or following Christmas. It was just a normal night with low cloud cover and clear weather, nothing special to write home about. Everything was quiet and peaceful outside the workshop. 

Until it suddenly wasn't. 

"NNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" a desperate wail echoed with increasing volume. 

"NNOOOORTH! NNOORTH! NOORTH! NORTH!" The incessant and steadily amplifying cries were accompanied by equally vigorous and escalating pounding on the main doors into the building. Whoever was out there was far from happy or calm... and they sounded like the Boogeyman. 

"NICHOLAS!" Whoever screamed frantically in a high pitched wail. "NICHOLAS, _PLEASE_!" The being started to wildly scrabble at the door, clearly in a desperate panic. 

The concerned guard yetis looked to see who was out there and were completely stunned to find that it was indeed Pitch Black outside their door looking like he was fleeing for his life. His tattered robes looked like they had been throughly chewed on and his black nails had lengthened into the ragged claws of a wild animal fighting for its life, his fearfully livid face was twisted into a frightened mask of one who had seen horrors untold and feared for their very soul. Pitch continued to hysterically scream and feverishly fail and attack the door, not caring if his wicked claws broke or if he bloodied his bruised hands, he just needed to get inside! 

The assembled yetis were worried, especially with the way the Boogeyman kept scratching gouges out of the front doors, what were they supposed to do? Some of them thought that they should go gather up the toy maker to alert him of the strange situation while cautious others felt they should just leave the creepy spirit out in the cold and only deal with him if he managed to actually claw his way through the door. The argument was made moot when Nicholas St. North walked down to the ground floor himself without any prompting to make his own reply to hearing his name screamed repeatedly. 

"Away, away," he waved off the flustered elves energetically scurrying under his booted feet. The annoyed Christmas spirit looked all around at the stunned yetis. "What is this? We are all being afraid of the Boogeyman now?" The elves jingled loudly as they furiously nodded their heads. North sighed in disappointment but at least the elves were honest. "Bah! This is Santoff Claussen! If _any_ spirit, even Pitch, comes here asking for help then we are to show hospitality. You are all knowing this!" He gently admonished his furry companions. It was a rule as old as the workshop itself: Santoff Claussen was a safe haven for anyone in need, immortal or otherwise, regardless of past transgressions. 

With his piece said the jolly man turned back to his abused door and proceeded to open it in midst of Pitch howling out requests for 'parley' and 'sanctuary'. As soon as the battered barrier was opened the Boogeyman jerkily staggered half a step forward and then eagerly glommed onto the side of the larger spirit, almost as if he'd turned himself into a shadow to flatten against his person and held onto him for dear life. It was a wonder he'd yet to crawl inside of the ex-bandit's thick coat with how close he pressed himself. 

"I need an adult!" The fear spirit screeched in wide eyed terror, frantically kicking a foot at the door to try and get North to close it. 

North looked dumbfounded at the elder spirit, wondering just what could have so terrified and unsettled a being as old as the world if not older, and also why Pitch had come here of all places to be rescued from whatever was out to get him. 

"But Pitch," North started in confusion as the fear spirit whimpered and clung to his side more tightly, "you are _being_ an adult." 

"I Need Another Adult!" He plaintively wailed. 

-X-X-X-X-X-X-X- 

~Earlier that night~ 

Every night started the same way. The routine was for his own peace of mind as much as it was strictly necessary, a way to ground himself against the occupational hazards of his job, it might even have been a form of meditation not that he remembered where or from whom he had learned it from. His nights started with him waking before the prisoners roused themselves, as the only safe time to sleep was when they did. From there he would quickly wash and take his breakfast while he let himself dry in the stagnant air before dressing. Dressing was never a simple affair, unlike breakfast, and was the most time consuming part of the whole nightly ordeal. 

He would start with his under clothing, not that he'd ever let on if he was a boxers or briefs spirit. Panties? and tights aside, the first layer of his fabricated armor was a pure white undershirt made to breathe but more for movement and just long enough to cover his elbows and navel. Simplest of his clothes it was never seen and held hidden embroidery on the cuffs, collar, and hem for the occasion that it's discovery ever happened. Next on were his trousers, plain and just as white as his shirt but instead of embroidery there was a line of gold down the outside seams. His waist was girdled by a strong golden belt for his pair of straight swords contrary to what he wore in the field when it had been a golden sash intended to carry the weight of a light secondary weapon. He would always prefer duel rapiers to the long scythe for fighting in close quarters. The shadows never expected that he'd take advantage of his lighter than average build even with all the times he'd fought them and won by shear speed alone. The last article of underclothing came in the form of his short cut military coat, white based with gold accents and fastenings made mostly to act as padding for his actual armor and allowed for a bit more maneuverability. There were some nights he wanted to forgo it, feeling it was cumbersome and unnecessary, but for the sake of his sanity he slipped it on with everything else rather than attempting to poke holes in what little stability he had left. 

With all of his undercoating in place he was able to start on his real armor, lightweight as golden star-shine and twice as durable as the next strongest metals to boot. Speaking of his boots they were their own affair and easily went the length of his legs, up and over his thighs, almost like a second pair of slacks. The torso pieces fit together like another military coat with a more pronounced collar and neck guard with a long sweep of impossible skirt going down his sides and back but left his front unburdened. Though the arms came down to his wrists he wore golden gauntlets over the metal sleeves up to his shoulders. This overly cautious guarding of his joints was for the sake of his hands and forearms as too many had tried to cut his prowess off at the elbow. He wore no helm finding that, against those who could tear at the mind, they were useless for anything other than restricting one's vision. While all the metal plates were gloriously golden they seemed even brighter with the stark white beneath them peeking out from the joins and seams. 

He liked this suit better than the ceremonial ones he was made to wear to impress the masses when he was paraded around before them. He had never wanted to be worshiped like some god, or made the unnecessary center of attention, but his wants were secondary at best when it came to the needs of the many. The people needed a hero to look up to so he was one. The army needed a leader so he became one. The Tsar needed a faithful champion so he was molded. The Universe needed a guard for the most elaborate prison created so he was sacrificed. Needless to say he did not have the best relationship with the moon for settling him in his dark dank lair of loneliness, but now there were other guardians who walked the world with him and kept it safe from external forces, and his only remaining job was to keep it safe from the fears that came from within. 

The last step of his morning routine was to look himself over in the mirror, particularly to study his face, as the first signs of trouble would be most visible there. His skin was a healthy silver stardust, not ashen or corpse grey like it could have been when his thoughts lingered on home, and his eyes were twin eclipses devouring the cosmos with pupils always a little fat owing to the low lights of the prison. His short black hair stuck up in spikes upon waking but were always tamed and smoothed out, into something like a backswept feathered crest, by the time he was ready to patrol. He flashed himself a smile and was content to see the first two rows of his perfectly white, perfectly straight, perfectly pointed and serrated shark-like teeth. It helped to remind him that he was a predator creature and not the prey while he was in these walls. 

He knew who he was and he knew his title and his duty. With all that routine cemented in place he could finally leave his quarters to start his rounds. He'd slept well enough so maybe if he was lucky the prisoners wouldn't be in such a rowdy mood this night. It was a vain hope, but one he always held out for. 

The lonesome guard left his room to head deep inside the twisting nightmarish realm of his lair. It really was his lair as much as theirs now with its twisting stairs to nowhere, the endless halls, and the pitfalls in the dark and ever shifting tunnels. It was designed to be both at once impossible to break out of or into, and he held the only key to find his way forward and back from the deepest depths of the labyrinthian halls. The 'Cage Room' was what he named the deepest level of his Venetian prison, and it lay appropriately at the very heart and center of the darkened realm. It was larger than he cared to fully imagine with a ceiling not nearly high enough to suspend the countless black-lead cages from which a dizzying network of narrow walkways, that only he used to get around, were interconnected and lead to one central hub that was monopolized by a tarnished globe displaying and monitoring the strength of the wards holding the nightmares at bay. As long as people believed they were safe, the cages would hold without fail. It was up to the guardians above to keep the people believing.  

All this lay contained behind one singular, large, ornate, oppressive, leaden door. 

The door he now stood before, staring unhappily at its carvings. 

He had already patrolled everywhere else in the lair, and unfortunately there was nowhere else to go but here. One had to be prepared to deal with the prisoners in this section, the shadows could be unrelenting at times, but here they had a particularly potent gnash when they felt up to it. They whispered things, dark things, the sounds of purest evil and vile acts of a depraved and unnatural sort that wore heavy on a man's mind. They were insidious creatures not fit to freely roam the night where innocent minds frolicked in the fields of golden dreams. Really someone had to think of the children and that someone was him. He was the willing shepherd of night terrors and warden to a flock of ever hungry fiends. 

Centering himself one last time the golden shadow prepared himself for the usual onslaught of begging for freedom and promises of pain before he opened the door wide. 

"Hey mister Boogeyman~, you sure is lookin' _fine_ tonight." a crude and wet hissing voice crowed at him the moment he stepped into the room. 

The guard froze on the spot. What? 

"Aw yis, look at his purdy armor shinin' so _nice_. He's a right purdy boi that Boogeyman is, maybe he'll let us _boogie_ with him tonight." a different but no less wet voice answered the first. 

What? WhAt?! 

"What'cha scared of Mister Boogeyman? We ain't gonna hurt you none, naw, we wanna treat'cha reel nice, make ya feel _reeel_ good." again spoke the first wetness. 

The golden guard didn't jump when the door slammed shut behind him with a resounding and final sounding bang. He stood stock still with his mouth slightly opened in inarticulate shock as he slowly swept his piercing gaze over the low hanging cages filled to almost bursting with their nightmarish occupants. Everything looked to be in perfect order, nothing felt loose or out of place, so that meant the cages were firmly secured and nothing was going to jump out and get him, though such an ambush would fall to his trusted bastard-swords anyway. Something was still just not right tonight. 

"You gots a purdy mouth Mister Boogeyman," one of the more solid shades in one of the cages closest to him called invitingly, "reel purdy mouth." 

"He still gots all his teef," another wheezier shadow added. "Purdy white teef!" 

The first one seemed to chuckle huskily before pressing itself bodily against the bars. "Can think of some right nice things ta do with a purdy mouth filled with purdy teef like that." 

"Thank you, no?" The unbalanced guard cringed on the inside at the possibilities and hurried along to start his patrol of the containment room before things got any stranger. 

"Aw, such a polite Boogeyman he is." Another sweetly scratchy phantasm tittered as he purposefully strode past. "So respectful and _proper_. Must be a sweetie, this one, with all them manners he's got ta know how ta treat a gal right." 

He didn't respond. Honestly he wasn't even sure if the living horrors even _had_ genders or why they were suddenly choosing to differentiate themselves tonight. The trick was to not respond, like usual, then they would all go back to how they usually were with dark seduction of illicit and improper acts of revenge and death and things would be normal again. 

Unfortunately no one gave the shadows that memo. 

"Oh you don't wants to wear that." A few wisps softly crooned. "That armor is too heavy for you Mister Boogeyman. You want to drape yourself in us nice soft shadows. We'll wrap you up _reeeal_ good, we're good at curling up _reeeal_ close." Their little claw-like fingers gripped the mesh between the bars, tugging and pulling at the woven lead strands in feeble attempts to tear holes in their cages. They all seemed particularly hungry for him this night.   

The prison warden quietly shuddered as he passed by that cage, much to the amused delight of the inmates. No, no he had to pull it together. The key was to not react, not to give them the satisfaction of knowing that they had upset him. As of that moment he was failing miserably in that regard which was all the incentive they needed to keep up with their comments just as they were. With something of a resigned air, and the realization that more of the same was quickly going to follow, he continued along his normal path hoping to grow immune to the monsters new machinations quickly. 

"You should patrol here with us more often, Mister Boogeyman." Yet another small apparition breezily called. "It gets so lonesome without you." 

He didn't respond but the golden guard fractionally sped up his pace. He wouldn't show fear before them, but this was a new level of discomfort for him with what was being said. 

"We hates to see you go, but we loves to watch you leave precious!" The cluster of dark things that had spoken giggled as the guard continued along the winding path towards the next section of the containment room. Unknowingly the warden had sped up his pace again to the order of something like a militant jog.  

The nightmarish creatures were only too pleased by this.  

"Aw yeah," one shadow purred sultrily, "you march those boots, you march them away." More laughter and chittering resulted when the guard began to walk with still more haste. "Oooh, march them faster! We likes that, yeah, work dem legs." 

"Dat ass." A specter called out conversationally, as if replying to the others. "His armor's so shiny we can see ourself in dat ass." 

The golden warden sputtered indignantly, finally faltering in his circuit of the pathways. "Really? That's just _crass_." Only the sound of directionless laughter answered him. With a new sense of disgusted annoyance at himself for giving the living darkness exactly what it wanted, he pressed onward. In all honesty one couldn't accuse the prisoners of having class to begin with. As if to prove the point his reaction only seemed to insight more action and activity from the cages filled with some of the larger horrors as he passed them. What had he thought would happen if he responded to them? These shadows were cruel and just waiting for something they could use to tear him down. 

"Oh Mister Boogeyman," one of the larger horror-shades called out, "over here Mister Boogeyman, please Mister Boogeyman, it's so cold and dark." this one sounding particularly and genuinely lonesome. 

"Let us warm you up," a second one chimed in before giving in to throaty purrs. "We'll make you all comfy and cosy."  

"I hardly think any of you are capable of changing that." He damned himself almost as soon as the words had left his mouth. Honestly he was trying to ignore them and hold onto his sanity, not encourage them to continue propositioning him! No need to make an already uncomfortable situation even more disagreeable with their unusually lewd observations about his person and flirtatious taunts. At least he hoped they were just taunting him. The living darkness had never shown such carnal interest in him before and the unsettled guard had no interest in changing that anytime soon. No, no he was certain these things were incapable of love or wanting things for such base urges, so they just all had to be taunting him, nothing more and nothing less. 

As he walked on the warden was happy to see that none of the cages were empty but that joy was short lived as he saw more of the shadows stir with his oncoming approach. 

"You must be so lonely," they sang to him. "We're lonely too." 

"Just a touch," more desperately reached for him as he passed, "one little touch? We just wants to touch such a purdy Boogeyman." 

" _Lonely purdy Boogeyman_." Yet more sibilant whispers echoed in the seemingly endless room.  

"I'm hardly either of those things." He muttered grumpily to himself. Well if his mouth was going to have a mind of its own tonight so be it, he would just have to be quick about completing his rounds. Once he was out of the prisoners' room he could talk to himself all he wanted, just as he usually did when a suitable distraction wasn't on hand. 

"Oooh Mister General, sir?" This time the new voice from a cage further down the path. "We know we's being so informal not calling you Mister Boogeyman, but you look like a General. Would you like to be our General? You can be the General of us, Mister General Boogeyman sir, we can boogie _reeal_ good Mister Boogeyman." 

The golden guard grimaced. "No, thank you, I already have an army of my own that I'm quite happy with." 

"Bet'cha they ain't as _flexible_ as us." More of the manifestations laughed as the irked guard stalked past their cages along the twisting path. Maybe if he lengthened his strides... 

"Oh dem legs, we _loves_ dem legs." 

"We loves it when you're on patrol." 

"Oh you work dem legs!" 

"Those legs must get tired carrying around all dat handsome all day." 

He gave up attempting to keep track of which fiends were calling out what. As far as he was concerned they were all equally infuriating, clear indications of his unspoken feelings were silently indicated by the white knuckle grip on his sword hilt and stern line of his shoulders. 

"Aawww you're tense again, you should let us rub dem legs." They were getting to him and they knew it. 

He pivoted on the spot to look back the way he'd come. "Because scrubbing them with tar is _just_ the trick to help me relax for the evening." He turned back ignoring the catcalls intent on heading forward only to find himself facing down one of the largest cages in the underground realm. Unlike the smaller ones this cage had miniscule slats cut into the metal so that the guard could peek in and make sure the criminal inside hadn't escaped. 

He had a sinking feeling he wouldn't need to look inside tonight, but started to lean in closer all the same. 

The elder horror slammed itself against the near side of its cage, causing the unusually high-strung guard to quickly jerk back. "I knew you loved me best!" It crowed triumphantly. " _We're meant to be together_. I can feel you through the door, come closer!" It shook the hanging cell hard enough to make the chain suspending it rattle ominously. "It's so warm. I wanna be inside of you! I want you inside of me! _Put It Inside Of Me!_ He's PUttiNg iT InsIDe Of mE! INSIDE Of me _eeEE_!" The poor guard blanched and made unhappy noises of distress. " _Oooh, I love when you make those sounds_." 

"Nope." He began to quickly head down the next path. "Not interested. Do not want. Not my type." Stars, he was babbling! It was a miracle he hadn't started to run yet, but then where would he have been? The things practically fed on fear and after being down here for so long away from any other likely food source any morsel of anxiety he gave them could start a feeding frenzy. 

"Wait!" The thing screeched after him, rocking its cage in vain attempts to free itself. "Please come back! Come back! CoME BaCk aND lOve _meee_ , I kNOw YoU lovE ME!" 

His response was to just keep his eyes forward and resolutely ignore what had jut happened. Because that hadn't just happened. What was everyone talking about? They were all drunk and needed to go home, or maybe he needed to go back to his quarters and get drunk. That was starting to sound like a lovely idea, then he could drown out his internal screaming and the incessant cackling of the shadows. 

"Ooh please Mister Boogeyman, please let us out, just a little." Some of the smaller shades pleaded, whimpering softly as they scratched at the metal of their cages. "It's so lonely in here and you're so lonely and _handsome_. Let us out, we'll be reel good, we'll take turns, we'll take good care of you, we'll be so good to you." They purred it out like a promise between lovers twined together in the sheets. 

"How lovely," he breathed more to himself than anything else. "You're all going to fixate on physical intercourse now, aren't you?" There came more husky laughter as if in response to such a silly question. Really, he was starting to bring more of this all on himself by revealing just how much he was becoming unsettled. He just had to keep his composure long enough to get through this room and then he would be done for the night, he'd be able to relax and go about forgetting that this strange night had even happened. 

"Look at dem hips," some specter pointed out, "dem sum reeeal nice hips on our guard. Dem look like child bearing hips. You gots some children Mister Boogeyman?" 

The golden shadow hissed his displeasure, baring his teeth menacingly as he glared murder at the one to dare broach that subject. The answer to that singular question was public knowledge and he wasn't about to grace them with an answer that would serve no purpose but to give away the level of his vexation. 

"Ah look at dat," the shades lilted in a sing-song fashion, "he's snarling. Look at dem teefus! He's got all his teefus, dey so white and purdy." One would think they were praising a pet or small child for being adorable. All it managed to do was infuriate the aggravated guard all the more. 

"You must be a good father." Some other shadows crooned. "We could give you some children Mister Boogeyman, won't even ask for no ponies or a home in the country, we just likes to see you happy." They quietly whispered their temptations with enticingly sure conviction in their tone, as if they knew without a doubt that they could give him what they promised. 

Unfortunately as repugnant as the abhorrent offer was to himself the wary guard wasn't the only one offended by the idea. 

"Stop flirting with him!" The elder horror bellowed in a voice so deep it made the warden's bones vibrate under his skin. "Stop flirting with him! You're all sluts! SLUTS! WHORES! He's my baby-daddy! He's my baby's daddy! You're my baby's daddy Mister Boogeyman, please Mister Boogeyman! StOp fLIRTing WiTh him! HE's mInE!" 

"No, No I'm Not!" The livid and terrified guard hurried along the path at a not quite run. "I'm Not Anyone's!" He needed to put some more distance between himself and the insane horror and he wasn't going to stop moving before he found the door leading back out. 

"That armor so shiny we can see ourself in your ass." it was no less uncomfortable hearing that one again, but much at least it was much less jarring the second time around. 

"Already used that one." The flustered warden called back as he approached another chamber containing an elder horror. He was loath to find out how this old fiend would act out for the night. If it was anything like its compatriot at least he wouldn't have long to wait to obtain his answer. 

"Put Him In A Dress!" The twisted terror roared. "I Ain't Bangin' No Dude! Put Him In A Dress!" It raked its impossibly sharp long claws down the sides of its prison, making the most earsplitting whine of metal on metal sound. "Do We Have Any Purdy Clothes To Put Him In?! Something Nice To Show Off Dem Lean Legs Of _Hers_! Dem Long Sexy Legs And Firm Round Ass Of Hers!" The shadow growled out a purr of longing and scratched at its cell walls again. "Make You Into A Nice Proper Lady! You'd Like That, Wouldn't You Boogeyman?! Bein' A Purdy Lady?!" It snarled and threw itself from side to side of the cage rather than waiting for an answer. "Put Him In A Dress! Ain't Gay If He's In A Dress! He'll Be The Weird One If He's In A Dress!" 

A chorus of exasperated sighs went up. " _It ain't homo if the balls don't touch,_ " intoned another cluster of young shades that exchanged voices every other word. The blasé retort sounded almost practiced, as if this wasn't the first time this conversation had been had.  

"I Don't Wanna Bang A DUDE!" Came the petulant blustering of the elder horror. "I Ain't No Homo! I Ain't Queer! You All Is Queer If You're Gonna Bang A DUDE!" 

"Some of us are beyond the limitations of physical appearances and social normality." An intermediate sized horror breathed with an entirely put upon manner. "We care only for the internal beauty of our illustrious warden." 

"QUEERS! YOU'RE ALL DAMN QUEERS! YOU CAN GO FUCK EACH OTHER! I JUST WANTS THE LADIES!" 

Under the cover of the heating verbal war the disturbed warden in question turned to frantically hurry (not run, he was not running, he had more _control_ than that) down the next leg of his nightly patrol path. Let the horrors tear at each other for a while if it got them off his back and doing something other than bothering him. 

Sadly his reprieve was not long lived as more shadows pressed themselves against the mesh of their cages to croon and plead and catcall after him as their haggard guard hurriedly trotted past them. Still, by now it was a far sight better than before when they had been using actual words and he really didn't want to hear more about what the living darkness wanted to do with him or parts of his person. 

"Pardon us for starin', sir," some shade tried to reach out towards the golden guard as he hurried past, "we just got lost in your eyes." 

He adamantly ignored them, because if they were moving onto cheesy pickup lines he was done for the night. He wasn't about to suffer through the indignity of being _hit on by the darkness._  

"Mister Boogeyman~," more shades lilted, "could we see your 'gun' collection?" 

Stars save him they were. "I don't use guns." They were honestly using pickup lines on him! 

"How about your sword?" a surprisingly old sounding one wheezed. 

The fuming guard quietly gnashed his teeth as he pressed onwards towards the exit. No, that was it, he wasn't going to stand for this. He was sure they were all accounted for and he could call the other guardians above to see if any wayward terrors had snuck out and made it topside. Yes, this all had to be a distraction for a minor breakout, not that the dark things could have broken out but it made him feel better to consider such things the truth rather than the idea that the darkness longed to do carnal and wanton acts to his body. It was his body damn it and if anyone was going to do anything scandalous and brazen with it he was the one to decide who what and when! 

"We could sit in your lap and talk about the first thing that pops up." Some inmate sweetly mewled. 

"Your death," the grim guard snapped. His world was covered in a thin veil of red and the haze grew thicker with each utterance of the dark things. 

"Chit darlin' you so purdy." Another of the older shadows, but not an elder horror, burbled. "Hows abouts you comes over yonder letcha me get a looks at'cha with my good eye." 

He smiled nastily in the tricky fiend's direction. "I could always take your other eye and solve everyone's problems." If silence was impossible than he could attempt to put them in their places. It hadn't worked before but unusual times called for unusual tactics and maybe that was part of the twisted game. 

"Are your feet tired? Because you been running through our mind all day long." 

He could scream, he really could, but he didn't want to give them any more satisfaction. "You all are insufferably unoriginal." Where was the door out again? His boots seemed to echo in the cavernous room and bounced around with all the laughter and heckling jests and constant chittering of the shadows. The cacophony of sound had been slowly building all night while he patrolled, which was par for the course of any night, but never was it all so specifically unified in topics. It was almost more disorienting than usual insofar as he was used to them all wanting him dead, their freedom, and what they would do with their freedom once they had taken it back. Some were egging him on to leave, to run, as others were ribbing the other criminals who had made their unlucky and unsuccessful attempts. 

"Do you have any Fear in you?" One particularly waif like wraith entreated in a relaxed tone. 

The outraged warden only spared the caged shadow a disgusted look. He knew fear but there was none in him this hour. It would have been suicide to be afraid in this room and the creatures would have torn him asunder the moment he'd entered if that were the case. "No." He curtly ground out in a clipped voice. 

The slender horror seemed to pause and the guard could almost feel the devious smile spreading over their hollowed face. " _Would you like to change that_?" 

He actually needed a moment to work out that the thing had meant Fear as an ethnic society rather than a concept. They were all beings that inspired fear. Having any Fear inside of him amounted to the same as asking if he had any Italian or French or Pookan in him and--stars take him, that was _another_ bad pick up line! He turned away with no small amount of dread for what else awaited him on the way out and resumed his quick walk towards the salvation of the finally located door. 

"Nice abbs." He didn't even bother acknowledging the specter. 

"Could you take us to a bakery?" A few murky shadows spoke up. "Because we wants a cutiepie like you."      

"You are all wildly delusional if you think there is a modicum of cuteness inside of me," he wrathfully tromped past. Just a little further, the door couldn't be much further along! 

"You know what would look good on you? Us." 

The harried guard glowered in the direction of the last phantasm to speak and fixed the cage with a deadly glare. "I hardly think that would end well for any of you. You would all be tearing at each other for the limited space. How would you all fit, where would you even go?" 

"In your colon~" a chipper shade answered. 

That was just too much. "I don't even have a colon!" Maybe. It didn't matter as they wouldn't be finding out if he had one or not anyway. Though their persistence was enough to make any sane man scream, and he was fast reaching his limits. How did they even know what a colon was!? 

"Wanna go dance naked under the full moon?" 

And there it was, the last straw he'd been attempting to avoid. The idea of them _flaunting_ him like a piece of chattel under the watch of Tsar Lunar rankled and pulled at him in a way none of their previous insults had ever done. He was not some conquest to be had and bandied about like a cheap prize. "I am the Boogeyman! And you will respect me!" 

"Ooh Mister Boogeyman, we've been _ssooo_ naughty~." 

"Teach us a lesson Mister Boogeyman." 

"Teach us to never have fun in your presence ever again." 

They didn't fear him. Each comment punctuated their disregard for his standing and that they thought of him as nothing more than a joke, a plaything to their whims. The knowledge stabbed through him with horrifying clarity and caused him to deflate from his previous posturing. No, even stooping to their own level would not let him win, he had fallen so low and lost everything to their constant catcalls and enticements. Fool that he was to ever try fighting fire with fire as the saying went, this would be his new nightly torture now to be aware of how powerless he was against them.

All of them were clamoring for him at once, reaching and straining through the tiny openings in the mesh so that they could touch him, caress him, hold him in their spindly little arms. He could have just screamed in frustration, could already heard the sound echoing in his own ears ever building inside of his skull until it was a pounding throbbing mess of tension in his overworked brain. Maybe he already was screaming, voice hoarse from overuse with his never ending struggle to be heard over the riot of noise inside his own lair. If they would not obey him then they would respect him, he would make them respect him, scream down the stars at them until they were drowning in static the way he was drowning in his own head. 

He turned and reached for the long anticipated door at last and--

 

  

Pitch bolted upright from his bed, a scream still alive on his lips. Shadows, what had that been? A bad dream? It had to have been. _Those had been his own screams he'd heard inside of the dream_. Screams that had thankfully given way to terrified gasping. 

He gulped down mammoth lungfuls of air in a bid to steady himself. Himself, we was himself. He was Pitch Black, the Boogeyman, the Nightmare King. He was at home in his lair, in his own sunken bed in the floor of his bedroom (It just figured that one of the few things he liked about the Japanese had evolved from an idea they'd stolen from him). He was snuggled up under all of his floor coverings (they were not blankets, he couldn't use blankets because of the children) in his bed in his room and the shadows were his to control. He was not some lonely prison warden wandering his own lair each night but a fear spirit who had roamed the night for ages. Life was just as good as he had left it however many hours ago when he had settled in for a nap. 

Well almost as good. 

Pitch groaned softly to himself as he completed his mental survey of his person. He was a fear spirit after all and he had just had a rather rousing nightmare. Though it would be more accurate to say an _a_ rousing nightmare. It happened rarely and only when he was truly terrified, the last time having been quite long ago, his body would _react_ to the fear as if he were feeding from an outside source. Fear was his daily bread and butter and the more concentrated the fear the more intoxicating and alluring it tended to be. That his body had tricked itself again was fine, annoying but fine. He could take care of his problem in the sanctity of his own room where he would be unbothered by anyone.  

"Neeeeeigh~" 

At least that was the original plan. 

The dark spirit looked up to see one of his Nightmares standing over him and scenting the air curiously. She must have been drawn in by his fear, which wasn't all that surprising. He could deal with her before dealing with himself. "What is it girl?" He reached up to tenderly stroke the side of her muzzle. "Did you come here looking for a little snack?" 

The mare leaned into his touch at first before she lowered her head and gave the Boogeyman a nice firm lick along the side of his face. He was a little stunned as the mares usually didn't show him such affection. The Nightmare nuzzled the side of his head snuffling and breathing in his scent before she started to move her mouth lower to lip along his neck towards his exposed chest and navel areas. 

That was enough to shock Pitch out of his mental stupor and he pushed the Nightmare away as he recoiled further into his bed. 

Now that he was fully awake he could clearly see she wasn't there so much for a snack as she was for him. Though with the way she was looking at him perhaps she did intend to eat him at some point. The very idea made him shudder but not half as much as the sounds of more Nightmares approaching his room. All of them were attracted by his fear and in his current state it must have been like a heady aphrodisiac. It was like he'd woken from one nightmare into another with similar undertones and he wanted to no more let the mares have at him than he did the lusty shadows of his dreams. 

"I'm flattered, really," the jittery spirit began to hurriedly twist and bend the mundane shadows to his will, "but completely uninterested." With that Pitch slipped into the darkness traveling fast and far away from his lair to the only place he knew he would be safe from his wayward mares. 

He just hoped he could get to the North Pole before the herd caught up with him. 

-X-X-X-X-X-X-X- 

~Present time~ 

Before North had the chance to ask why Pitch would need _another_ adult, all his questions were answered by a very...suggestively whispered "Nei~gh~..." 

The toy maker looked up immediately in alarm from the spirit plastered to his side to try and find the source of the sudden whinny. He found his unsettling answer in the form of a small herd of Nightmares throwing 'come hither' looks in the Boogeyman's general direction. Some batted their eyelashes prettily, some licked their teeth, most just presented their backsides and wiggled them enticingly. All of them very clearly, horrifyingly, wanted a 'ride' from the Nightmare King. 

The ex-bandit just stared uncomfortably at the sight outside of his door and worked his jaw a few times before any sound came out. "Pitch? Are they--" 

"Yes." The Boogeyman shuddered, gave up his kicking at the door with a despaired whimper, and slunk more behind North's large frame. "It is exactly what it looks like. I need an adult." 

The gears slowly started to turn in North's head. "Your army is herd of ...mares?" 

"And apparently they have decided I'm their only stallion, yes." He answered briskly. He didn't know what had caused the herd to suddenly decide this kind of thing was necessary but he absolutely did not want to stud for them, ever. He made them easily enough through the traditional means of sand-sculpting and he didn't see a need to change that formula now! "...Nicholas please!" 

The sound of Pitch calling him by his first name snapped North out of the horrified shock and bewilderment he had slipped into. The discombobulated scion of Christmas hurriedly, decisively, and immediately wrapped one reassuring arm around the skittish dark spirit to firmly secure him in place by his side and then calmly took a very large step backwards away from the open doorway. 

"We will be going inside now. You will be staying with me tonight. That is not question." When a soft nicker was thrown in _his_ general direction it took all his willpower not to flinch or make an unpleasant face as he slowly and carefully shut the doors on the lascivious Nightmares, throughly locked said doors and hastily threw all the wards up around the overall entirety of his bustling work shop. He even put a chair under the knob just for good measure, just in case, because of reasons. "Yetis, if can chase Nightmares off, good, do so. If not, do not let them in. I will be taking care of this one." With that order firmly in place the normally jolly man circled his arms around the very unsettled shoulders of Pitch Black, lifted him easily into his arms, held him like a child, and carried the extremely indisposed Boogeyman far away from the disturbing sight up towards the safety and comfort of his personal suite. 

One of the nearest bewildered guard yetis suddenly lurched back from a window overlooking the immodest herd to inquisitively garble something at the dismayed toy maker. North paused mid-stride and seemed to consider what he'd heard for a moment before turning to Pitch. "Maybe Nightmares would like Reindeer?" 

The frazzled Boogeyman only hissed softly through his gritted teeth and tugged a little on North's sleeve in the hope of prompting him into resuming their course and taking him someplace safe. "I don't care! Do you mind if they're _eaten_?" 

"Bah," the slightly optimistic swordsman dismissed the dark spirit's comment and petted his back in hope it would help somehow. "Reindeer like good challenge. Will be fine." 

Pitch just let his head drop down onto the young spirit's shoulder as he tried not to think about what monstrosities would result if the two species somehow managed to breed true and instead focused on the steadily creeping warmth seeping into his spine. " _I need an adult,_ " he miserably whimpered. 

"Yes yes, am knowing this. Am here to be adult for you. No more worries!" the marginally less perplexed ex-bandit reassuringly patted the sullen spirit's shoulder, "Yetis!" He casually turned to merrily call back to the ones still anxiously awaiting his verdict. "Release Reindeer!" Once the fastest yetis were off and hurriedly running to the stables North resumed his trek up to his room.  

After what he'd just seen and didn't want to think about, including the consequences of his recent decisions, and with Pitch Black needing to be taken care of, it was going to be a very very long night indeed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Whoa! This got popular fast!
> 
> Here's the tumblr link for reblogs. FOR THE LOVE OF [insert power/concept of choice here] REBLOG!
> 
>  
> 
> <http://heartlessdarkness-mun.tumblr.com/post/70733214815/rotg-fanfic-purdy>


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